


Foundations

by needchocolatenow



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 21:51:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8118802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/needchocolatenow/pseuds/needchocolatenow
Summary: When Keith met Lance, it was over a briny sea.





	

The turning of summer saw the deep dwellers surfacing from underground, smelling the freedom that came with frigid weather and lengthy nights. This winter was forecasted to be longer and colder, settling in from the north and reaching outward like the fingers of an impatient child. 

Keith hated winter. Of the two seasons that still existed, winter was the one he dreaded most. It made traveling difficult and hazardous; special precautions needed to be taken to stave off frostbite and hypothermia, not to mention the snow imps that appeared with the cold. 

Shiro had asked—begged—him to come along on this journey precisely as a safeguard against the Northern winds; Keith was born in the summer on the hottest day when the twin suns were at their zenith in the sky. All he knew, by the blood that flowed in his veins, was fire and heat. He was summer manifest, given breath, the most talented of the Fire Pledged of his city. 

“Thank you, again,” Sam said. “For getting us here.” He smiled and offered Keith the last of their jerky. 

They were traveling to Altea, where Sam’s daughter was graduating from her studies of engineering at their most prestigious university. She was bright, Keith had heard. Bright enough to have caught the eye of royalty and was now given the chance of a lifetime to become a Paladin to the only princess of Altea. Sam had expressed his concerns during the trip on solemn nights, worried as he was about the current shakiness that was the Altean political climate and how it might affect his daughter. 

Keith took the jerky from Sam with a nod of thanks, adjusted the pack on his shoulders, and called up the fire that rested beneath his skin to burn farther, to melt away the tendrils of cold and chase away any imps that dared to come their way. He stood at the front of the group, blasting heat off his body like a furnace, and held aloft two rotating balls of fire over their heads. 

The island kingdom of Altea was just beyond the docks now; their group of four had been on the road for a week. Matt, Sam’s son, had been optimistic about beating the cold, and for the first several days, everyone had thought the same and that Keith would have only escorted them up until the halfway point. Shiro’s pragmatism on calling Keith along for the journey had been right; without him, they’d have been stuck in some backwater town with no way to progress. Machinas stalled easily in the cold and luckily, Keith was no machina.

“We’ll need to find a boat,” Shiro said, squinting out into the dark expanse of water. 

There was nothing to see, not even the island of Altea; thick, rolling fog breached the shores like fat puffs of sweetgrain smoke, veiling everything in a shroud of cold, foul-smelling brume. Just looking at it made Keith shiver and he endeavored to burn brighter, hotter. The fog parted where his fire burned, but not enough to offer a view of any sort. 

“Do you think we’ll find someone to ferry us in this weather?” Matt asked. He was looking around, scouting the abandoned docks for anyone that could possibly help them. 

Ice had begun to form over the top of the briny river, the smooth, shining shapes of them glinting in the shroud of fog, knives in the dark to unseasoned sailors. No one could help them across now, not unless they were a Water Pledged of some talent, and in this xenophobic town, Keith wasn’t betting on anyone coming to their aid. He certainly wouldn’t, if he lived here.

Keith shivered again, feeling the bite of winter more readily. He kicked his foot against a wayward winterweed growing in some sludge on the docks.

“Maybe we should—”

“Hello out there!” 

Keith startled. A voice was coming from beyond the fog. It sounded faint, but audible enough that meant whoever it was, was close. Coming closer still.

“Hello?” Shiro called back. 

“Are any of you related to Katie Holt?” 

“Yes! I am her father!” Sam yelled into the fog and Keith had to bite his lip at the foolishness. He’d heard stories of aquatic imps that could imitate the voices of humans, calling out promises in seductive, sweet voices, only to drown and eat them. His hand went to his belt to clutch at the hilt of his dagger.

“Great! I’m here to pick you up! Transport over to Altea’s been dangerous, especially with how fast the cold hit. How many are in your party?” 

The voice was louder now and if Keith strained, he thought he could make out the faint shape of a person in the fog. Yet despite that, he could hear no boat traversing through the water, no oars breaking the stillness, no telltale hum of machinas working. There was but a faint sound not unlike fired clay jangling on a line in the wind, reminding Keith of times spent running errands for an odd, feeble-minded woman who had no friends, no family. 

“Four!” Sam yelled back just as the figure emerged. 

It was a man, dressed in a skin-tight black bodysuit that started at his neck and ended just above the knees, exposing his olive colored arms and legs in the freezing weather. A voluminous fur pelt was attached to his narrow waist, cinched there by a navy and gold belt with many curiosities dangling from it. The most curious of all was a white and blue sheath to a weapon that glowed. The man wore no shoes and walked on top of the cresting of the waves as anyone would over stone.

From his position next to Keith, Shiro squinted down at the man, his handsome visage crinkling as he thought—hard. 

“Is that you, Lance?”

The man grinned, a row of shining white teeth the color of fresh snow. “Shiro! I can’t believe you still remember me!”

Shiro laughed, clearly surprised, and he introduced their party, but Keith could only stare at the shoeless man. Who was he and how did he know Shiro? Shiro didn’t come to Altea often; his last trip had been on orders from the Garrison. Not only that, but how was the man not freezing? Perhaps one of the trinkets the man carried had a weather ward?

The man’s eyes snapped to him for a long moment and Keith found his breath lodged in his throat. It could have been the fact that they were both Pledged, or perhaps it was because of the utter strangeness of the man, how comfortable he looked in the cold, that Keith felt a tingle travel down his spine. When the man finally spoke again, it jarred Keith back into reality. 

“You’ll have to drop the fires, Hot Stuff,” the man said with a wink. “I can’t take you across if you’re agitating the water. Come on down, all of you.” 

Keith bristled, but called back the fire and diminished his heating, following the instructions of the man to come off the docks. The water was surprisingly springy and slippery to walk on, giving Keith instant vertigo as he bounced and slid wherever he stepped.

“Almost forgot; my name is Lance,” the man introduced with a toothy smile. “Don’t walk too far from me or you’ll fall in and drown. It’s winter and the things in the waters have been feeling especially lonely.” 

Lance chatted idly, making small talk with everyone until they got farther out into the water before dropping the conversations. The depths below them turned blacker than the pitch of night and the bouncing, if possible, was worse the farther out they went. The winds grew harsh, stealing all sound to feed the silence, the winter fog becoming a wall that surrounded them. Only where Lance walked did the fog part briefly like clouds before the suns, bringing visibility and clarity to their eyes. Yet all Keith could see was Lance at the front, Matt and Sam beside him, and Shiro close behind. Surrounding them was a world of grey, icy and colorless and smelling like putrefied fish. 

“If you’re going to vomit, I’d suggest facing downstream,” Lance advised, his voice somehow reaching their ears despite the howling of the wind. A moment later, Matt leaned over and retched, heaving up his breakfast. Instead of splattering on top of a solid surface, his spew was taken away by the water. His father bent over to rub Matt’s shoulder in comfort. 

“How long until we reach Altea?” Shiro asked, his voice raised. He too, looked visibly whiter in the face, whether from vertigo or cold, Keith didn’t know. 

“I’m not sure why they call this a river,” Lance said, scratching at his head. “It’s more of a sea, rather. We’re not even at the halfway point. I can speed the journey up, but it wouldn’t be pleasant, to say the least.” 

Their party looked around, assessing each other in silence. Shiro was the one to speak up.

“The faster we get there, the easier we’ll rest.” 

Lance shrugged, an easy roll of his shoulders. They were bony, but not without muscle. Keith diverted his gaze when Lance met his eyes. Keith didn’t miss the way Lance grinned. 

“Here, hold onto this for me, Hot Stuff.” 

A giant belt of trinkets was deposited in Keith’s arms, each of them clattering together to make a sound like earthenware chimes, clear and loud despite the furious wind within the silver fog. This was what he heard earlier. Keith looked over to Lance, who was shrugging on the immense pelt, pulling it over his head and obscuring his face. He clutched the strange glowing weapon fiercely, pressing the hilt of it against his forehead for a moment before shifting it into his right hand.

“I can’t talk after I do this, but don’t be too alarmed. It’s still me.” 

“Are you a morpher?” Matt asked, but even before he finished asking the question, Lance had dropped onto all fours, his spine curving into an impossible shape. Keith watched in horrified fascination as sinew and bone rearranged itself, stretching and contorting in agonizing angles and curves that would kill a man. Lance made not a sound as the pelt came to life to wrap around overly taut skin and muscles, enveloping even the glowing weapon in his hand. The body before them grew, coming up massive and hulking in shape, and still continued to grow until what was there resembled nothing of a person, but a beast that had long been relegated to the past. 

A hoarfrost lion stood where Lance did, tall and proud and larger than any creature Keith had ever seen before. Its fur gleamed a blue not unlike the color of a man’s lips would turn in freezing cold, though its underbelly and legs were white as fresh-fallen snow. 

“Oh my,” Keith heard Matt gasp. 

This was beyond words for Keith. He tightened his hold over the belt that had been placed in his care as the giant creature swiveled its head around to look at them. Should it open its maw, it could devour the four of them whole. 

The hoarfrost lion shook out its fur and laid down, almost as if trying to make itself look smaller. 

It was Shiro who made the first move. He lifted his gloved hands and pressed it tentatively against the creature’s muzzle, moving it back and forth in slow, calm motions. When the creature made no sudden movements, Shiro’s expression brightened. 

“You’ve changed in more ways than one since we’ve last met!” 

The hoarfrost lion made a huffing noise and to Keith, it sounded like laughter. Shiro placed both his hands onto the chin of the beast and rubbed—vigorously. Lance’s jaw clacked as it snapped shut and then opened again, a strange rumbling noise that sounded between a growl and something deeper egressed from between that huge maw. He slumped over, obedient and clearly enjoying the chin rub. 

Matt, despite the vertigo, was never one to pass up a chance to investigate something new; peeling his gloves off as he walked, he stopped before Lance’s ribcage and pressed his palms against the fur, moving his hands in a slow, reverent stroke. Keith took in the scene, just as Sam was as he regarded his son with a wary look. 

“Amazing!” Matt exclaimed. 

Lance made a strangled sounding yipping noise in agreement before rolling away, though he stayed low in a crouching position. He opened his maw, as if to speak, and then closed it with a whine. 

“I think he wants us to ride him,” Keith said. 

“Did he say that?” Sam asked. 

“As impressive as this was, I don’t think he meant it as a performance,” Keith replied dryly, earning a bark of laughter from Shiro.

They all clambered onto Lance’s back, Keith taking care to not pull harshly on his fur, but the process was a laborious and time consuming one. It was difficult to maintain any semblance of balance on Lance’s back until they decided to lay down flat on their bellies, each grabbing fistfuls of long blue fur to anchor themselves down. When they were as secured as they were going to get, Lance sprung into dizzying action, bounding across the water in quick, staccato steps. 

Keith’s heart leapt in his throat, his eyes stinging too much to make out his surroundings, and beneath his hands was the feeling of powerful muscles stretching and contracting. It was like Keith was back in the ranges, racing for the championship in his hover bike; the speed, the wind, and oddly enough, the thrum of life beneath his hands reminded him of his machina.

The thrill couldn’t have lasted for more than a minute or two when Lance slowed, coming to a stop in front of an icy shoreline. It was Altea, Keith realized, wiping away the moisture in his eyes. Glistening at the top of the highest peak on the island, the castle stood tall with white spires reaching into the heavens. The terrain was mostly composed of a rocky desert, similar to what Keith grew up with, but a weather-control band ran parallel to its natural borders, diverting the harshest suns of summer and the coldest winds of winter, making it fairer in climate and easier to live in. Despite that, nothing could stop the flurry of snow and ice that rained down onto the island kingdom. 

Lance roared, nearly shocking Sam off his back. Keith grabbed onto the older man before he fell and hauled him back upright. 

There was a faint hum of machina buzzing to life and Keith watched as a particle barrier deconstructed a hole big enough for Lance to travel through. Lance wasted no time and bolted for the space and the barrier closed itself when he passed. Behind them, the particle barrier—now sealed—became dormant again, fading from visibility. 

Lance made a beeline for the castle, running along the ridges of the island, away from the metropolis and the city proper. A steep cliffside came into view and with no warning, Lance made the jump, going nearly vertical as he scaled the cliff. All Keith could do was cling on tightly and hoped he wouldn’t be jarred off; it was a long way down. 

They landed in what looked to be a huge courtyard. Lance lowered himself down to the ground, an indication to get off if Keith ever saw one. Everyone slowly slid off of him like a slide, limbs feeling too much like jello to climb.

“Dad! Matt!” 

A near-exact replica of Matt was barreling past several guards and towards them at high speed. Katie Holt looked like a mirror image of her brother, right down to the short messy brown hair and bright smile, though she was slightly smaller. Twins, maybe? No, Keith thought, shaking his head, even though he could feel his eyebrows raising to his hairline. On a second glance she was young, much younger than Keith expected. 

Katie plowed into her brother, who had yet to regain the use of his legs, and thus sat on the ground looking very bewildered. 

“Your hair!” Matt exclaimed, aghast. 

“You look wonderful,” Sam interjected and Katie abandoned her brother to give her father a fierce hug. 

Not wanting to intrude on the familial moment, Keith let his gaze wander. Nothing was more interesting than Lance in the whole courtyard, who still stood behind them all as a giant hoarfrost lion. Keith didn’t even know how a morpher could become an extinct animal, let alone one that was so massive. He had heard the form and size of the morph depended upon the power and determination of the morpher, but this—this was unprecedented. If Lance was so talented, how had Keith never heard of him before?

As if sensing Keith watching him, Lance looked back, his deep blue eyes seeming all at once inhuman and yet, sympathetic. It was difficult to see him as anything else than a beast in this form, but then Lance shuddered, his whole body trembling as he shrank and changed, his shape twisting and snapping until he was just a man crouching under a thick pelt of fur.

Wordlessly, Keith offered a helping hand.

Lance looked at the proffered hand, a grin blooming onto his face. 

“Thanks, Hot Stuff.”

“The name’s Keith,” Keith said, unable to disguise the frown. 

In response, Lance’s grin became bigger as he took the offered help. “I know,” he said, getting off the ground with a groan and yet, when he was on his feet again, he didn’t let go of Keith’s hand. Keith felt a strange, icy tingle work its way up from the tip of his fingers and through his arms, traveling down in a sensuous line along his spine. “And since we’re stating the obvious, I feel that I should say: welcome to Altea. I hope you enjoy your stay.” 

Princess Allura was perhaps the most beautiful woman Keith had ever met. There had been stories that the princess of Altea had a pleasing look, but those stories would never do justice to the real thing. Her hair was a natural white, not from age or genetic disease, and her eyes were bluer than anything Keith had ever seen. Like all Alteans, her ears were pointed instead of rounded.

Keith wished someone had warned him that he’d be meeting royalty; he was not at his best or cleanest, especially after a week long journey through the backwater towns of the continent. He sniffed himself conspicuously, but his nose might as well be useless in the cold.

“Welcome,” said the princess, her voice accented in a delightful tone. She was tall, taller than Keith was, probably at the same height as Shiro, and when she greeted them, it was with individual handshakes. Her grip was firm and her hands were calloused. She was stronger than her frame suggested and she was only accompanied by a red-headed mustachioed man for a guard. “I hope the journey here had been easy for you all.” 

“It was rougher than we expected,” Matt admitted, “but we all got here in one piece! That’s the best I could have hoped for!” 

Everyone tittered. Keith watched. 

“I am sure you would all like to rest and catch up with Pidge—” Katie coughed, loudly. The princess continued on: “ _ Katie.  _ I wish I could arrange rooms for everyone here in the castle, but due to the…unfortunate current state of affairs, I cannot house you here. Lance will take you to your lodgings.” 

She gestured to Lance, who bowed theatrically with a goofy grin. 

“Of course, to celebrate this wonderful reunion, I have a feast ordered for tonight! I encourage everyone to attend. It would be lovely to speak with you all some more later.” 

“Princess, that is too generous of you,” Sam said. Although he was addressing the princess, he was focused on Katie. “You shouldn’t have.” 

“I insist.” Princess Allura smiled, but it seemed almost mechanical. Her eyes held a steely glint to them, even when her mouth curved upwards to form a friendly facade. “I do hope you enjoy yourselves.” 

Before anyone else had a chance to speak, Lance interjected with an enthusiastic: “Yes! Let’s go!” He herded everyone away without even saying goodbye to the princess, though she hardly seemed to mind as she went her own course, deeper into the bowels of the castle. Keith wasn’t sure how royalty was supposed to be treated, but he didn’t think the casual way that Lance behaved was conventional. 

Lance led the way through the castle, past marching sentries and through barren, winding halls of white and silver. The lights overhead gave no warmth, casting a harsh glare that made the place seem sterile and inhospitable. Understandable, considering what the Alteans just went through. Keith kept a close eye out for any signs or marks of battle damage, but the walls of the castle were clean and neat, almost as if it were built yesterday. 

Lance chatted away noisily at the front of the group with Matt, who was asking him curious question after curious question; what was it like to be a morpher? Why could he turn into an extinct animal? Was he the best Water Pledged in the kingdom? If he was Altean, why were his ears not pointed?

Keith wanted to join in, but his attention was drawn to Shiro, who had become uncharacteristically silent next to him. Shiro wasn’t frowning, but he didn’t look happy either. Keith followed his gaze to Katie, who was holding a rapid conversation with her father about her coursework. 

“Is that why you’re here?” Keith asked, pitching his voice low as to not be easily overheard. 

Despite the quietness of his tone, Shiro still started. “It’s not what you think,” he mumbled.

“You don’t know what I think,” Keith replied, managing to draw a small smile from Shiro. 

“You’re not as mysterious as  _ you _ think,” Shiro shot back without missing a beat, but there was no heat behind his words. He sighed and raked a hand through his bangs; they weren’t always white, but Shiro had never talked about the incident that had changed them. Keith’s impression was that Shiro had been fighting for his life and the shock of it all afterwards had changed it. Underneath the white, even his scalp had changed into a faded, pink color like a scar that hadn’t healed right. Like the scar that spanned over the bridge of his nose, spilling onto his cheeks. 

Keith never got the story and he suspected he never would.

They followed at the back of the group in companionable silence, moving out of the castle and through the crowded streets of the city, Keith gleaning bits and bobs of information from the conversations that carried over to him when he wasn’t trying to dodge Altean pedestrians. 

Lance had to use the pelt and the strange glowing weapon to help him change into a hoarfrost lion. Katie’s hardest class was dynamic field theory. Lance couldn’t talk to water, but he could hear the voices of the critters that lived in it. Katie loved it here in Altea. Lance was also in the same graduating class as Katie. Katie did not have a boyfriend. 

“We’re here!” 

They stood at the base of a tall, polished-looking building that was clearly inspired by the architecture of the castle. Keith couldn’t read the sign that hung overhead, but he got the impression that wherever Lance had led them to, the place was both impressive and expensive. Keith glanced around and realized that the castle wasn’t far at all and that the view was unobstructed from the higher floors. 

It didn’t take long to make up his mind. “I can find my own lodgings,” said Keith. 

“We’ve already made arrangements for everyone,” Lance said with a frown. “You can’t just go off on your own. Besides, the city’s going to be filled to the brim tomorrow, thanks to the graduation ceremony. It was already difficult enough getting these rooms for you.” 

Keith bristled at the tone, ready to argue when Shiro laid his hand on Keith’s shoulder, squeezing in support. “Stay,” he urged. “You can keep me company, at the least.” 

“Fine,” he gritted through his teeth, scowling in Lance’s direction, but he had already stepped inside the establishment. 

The decor within the inn was lavish and exaggerated, hardly a comfort to Keith’s eyes. A plethora of hanging orb lights hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting the lobby in a deep golden glow that resembled firelight at dusk. Panels in the walls were concentric, even throughout the architecture, save for the very highest ones. Behind the massive front desk was a harried-looking big man, whose face lit up into a weary grin upon seeing their party.

“Almost thought you weren’t going to show,” the man said. He held up a ring of keys and handed them over to Lance. 

“We’re precisely on time,” said Katie. She, too, obviously knew the man. “How are you doing?”

“Swamped,” he replied and then turned to the rest of them, rattling off a speech he had obviously given many times before. “Welcome to the Lioness Inn! Your reserved rooms are on the fifth floor; the room numbers are on the keys. Amenities are located on the third floor and complimentary breakfasts and brunch are held from the hours of six to ten-thirty in the morning.” His smile was genuine, if tired. 

“Thanks, Hunk.” Katie returned his smile and snatched the keys from Lance’s idle fingers. 

“Hey!” 

The keys were distributed with little effort and Keith found himself in room 51A. Shiro’s room was next to his and across the hall was Matt and Sam’s. Just like the lobby, the room itself was decorated in a way that was uncomfortably ostentatious; figureheads of lions hung from every corner, a machina-powered hearth was embedded into the far wall, and the bed floated atop a magnetic strip. The ceiling of the room was a powerful projector and it currently displayed the most beautiful and unrealistic summer twilight Keith had ever seen.

He set down his belongings next to the dresser and slammed the button, turning off the projector and plunging the room into darkness. He fumbled for the window and after finding the control cell for it, he managed to open the blinds. 

The castle was the first thing he saw, the white walls contrasting against the grey winter sky. 

Why was he here? He didn’t know Katie and he was barely acquaintances with Sam and Matt; he was just the Fire Pledged that Shiro had roped into this journey to make sure that everyone arrived in one piece. What was he thinking, stepping into this overpriced, pretentious room? He would have been fine with finding the cheapest hostel and sleeping in a cot, even if it meant abandoning the rest of them to staying here at this inn. 

Yet, he shouldn’t just up and leave. He shouldn’t.

Keith scowled and rubbed at his eyes, feeling more tired than when he had been on the road. He turned the dial for the hearth on and unbuckled his boots, arranging them next to the bed. He shed the greatcoat he had on, hanging it in the available closet space. The rest of his winter wear was removed with care until he was nude and he stepped into the bathroom—just as ridiculous as the rest of the place—for a shower. 

The water ran hot, nearly scalding for anyone without the heat resistance Keith had, but it soaked its way into his bones, vanishing a tension he didn’t know was there. He took his time cleaning, remembering that tonight he was expected at dinner at the castle hosted by the princess. 

Dinner was hours away and the time was just a bit after noon; Keith was peckish. 

Just a snack, Keith thought, as he got dressed after his shower. A brief glance out the window displayed the slow, inconsistent descent of winter snowfall hindered by the weather control band around the island. 

When he stepped out into the hall, he looked to Shiro’s door. It was closed, as he anticipated, and he nearly knocked on its heavy frame, intending to ask if Shiro would like to join him, but something stayed his hand. Moments later, he heard the unmistakable sound of a girl’s voice from inside Shiro’s room. 

Katie’s voice. 

Shoving his hands inside his pockets, Keith about faced, and shuffled down the many flights of stairs to the lobby. He was on the way out the door, one foot already on the street, when he unexpectedly heard his name called. 

“Keith!” 

He turned to see Lance following after him, a bright smile already fixed on his face. 

“Oh, it’s you,” said Keith. 

“No need to sound  _ that _ depressed,” Lance shot back, though he didn’t seem to take Keith’s surliness to heart. “You’re not going to rest up?”

Keith shook his head. “I’m just going to get a light snack.”

Lance’s smile got even wider. “You’ve come to the right person,” he said. “I know all the best snack places in town.” He slung an arm over Keith’s shoulder and waved a hasty goodbye to the big man behind the lobby counter. The big man smiled and waved in return, mouthing words that Keith couldn’t make out. 

Lance tugged him down the street, telling the story of how his grandmother’s bowl of allspice stew became the most feared dish of the household with wide and enthusiastic gestures. He led them down a merchant street, with tent stalls set up in the outdoors displaying strange knick knacks of all sorts, the smell of vendor food wafting through the air. It was reasonably distracting, listening to Lance and absorbing the new sights, when a thought occurred to Keith. 

“How do you know Shiro?”

The question gave Lance pause, nearly jarring him out of whatever groove he was in, but Keith needed an answer. 

A long moment passed and Lance pulled his arm back from around Keith’s shoulder, his eyes sharp and nearly black as as the sea they crossed this morning when he regarded Keith. “We met a year and a half ago,” said Lance, his voice clipped. Somehow, the happy mood he was in had been soured. “We were at a racing event. I crashed into the perimeter and Shiro pulled me out of the wreck that was my bike.” 

He waited, looking at Keith expectedly. 

“You race?” asked Keith, curiosity piqued.

Lance’s eyebrow ticked. “I just said I did, didn’t I?” 

Annoyance bit at Keith’s heel and he didn’t hesitate to stifle the response: “You said you crashed into the perimeter and wrecked your bike. That’s not racing.” 

It was perhaps mean-spirited, but Keith was feeling on edge; Shiro had asked him for help to come here to Altea, and he’d all but abandoned Keith in this foreign kingdom. Shiro, apparently, had a wide network of friends and acquaintances that Keith knew nothing about, but all Keith had was Shiro.

“You haven’t chan—” Lance started, his voice rising before he abruptly stopped himself, looking like he nearly bit his own tongue off. “Fine. Fine! You know what, I’ll show you! Come on, we’ll get you your food and then we’re heading over to the tracks. Not racing, my perfectly shaped—”

The Altean racecourse was the smallest, most pathetic excuse for a course Keith had ever seen. The ground was frosted over, the lanes were smaller than an official track’s, and the shape of it was a sad, small loop with no challenges or obstacles. Lance seemed stupidly proud when he presented it to Keith. 

“Me and Hunk, we helped rebuild this after the invasion,” Lance said, cocky and confident, his eyes bright, his grin even brighter, recalling fond memories. 

Keith grunted, in lieu of anything to say. There was no sign of any wreckage or displacement on the racecourse. 

“We can borrow some bikes from the shed.” Lance tapped him on the shoulder, leading him towards what was essentially a large, rundown hangar that stood next to the track. Keith got the distinct impression that they probably were not supposed to be there; a biolock, in addition to a deadbolt, guarded the entrance. A downed particle barrier sparked in occasional places, but was otherwise inoperative.

“Are we allowed to just go in?” Keith asked. 

“Ehhh,” replied Lance. He froze the biolock, rendering the machina useless, and with a flick of his wrist, pulled a key of ice from midair. “We’ll be fine. I have access.” 

Keith raised a skeptical eyebrow, but otherwise kept quiet. 

The inside of the hangar housed a rotating shelf of hover bikes containing some models that were clearly older commercial brands and others that were designed strictly for racing. There was a blue custom in a corner off the shelf that Lance declared was his. It wasn’t too shabby, but it looked incomplete. The casing was missing and it looked like it was in mid-repair. Fire damage charred the front of it, the metal warped and scorched black. 

“My baby got hurt during the chaos, but I’m fixing her,” Lance said. He patted his bike fondly before pulling another one off the shelf. 

Keith selected one that didn’t look too old or banged up; the engine purred nicely and despite some light handling damage, everything seemed well-maintained. Its case was painted white with red streaks through it and Lance sniggered to himself when Keith brought it down and unfolded its wings. 

“Alright, Hot Stuff, prepare to lose!” 

“I should say the same to you.” 

Lance leered. “So, you think I’m ‘hot stuff’, huh?” 

Keith rolled his eyes, feeling strangely warm around his collar, and grabbed a helmet from the rack, with Lance following suit. They brought their bikes out to the tracks and Lance stepped over to the control panel to bring up the plated perimeter that rested below the lanes when not in use. 

What surprised Keith the most when the perimeter came up was a clear split that led towards a path he didn’t see; it disappeared into what looked to be an underground route. 

“Are you going to wear...that?” Keith asked. He gestured to the giant pelt and the multitude of trinkets that Lance carried with him on his belt. They’d be impractical for racing, creating more drag than needed, but all that paled in comparison to the physical danger of bringing loose items onto the track. 

Lance looked down and shrugged, opening up a hidden compartment in his bike seat as he shoved the belt in. The giant pelt he pulled up over his shoulders, securing it in place with a strap. He got on the bike and noisily revved the engine, smirking the whole time. Keith rolled his eyes at the performance.

Overhead, a glowing visual of a countdown began. Keith counted with it mentally while Lance shouted out the numbers with glee. 

“Three, two, one; go!” Lance practically screamed and Keith immediately brought his foot down hard on the pedal. 

The two of them careened down the track at breakneck speeds, nearly crashing into each other already as they breached the first turn. It didn’t help that the track was small, but Keith had confidence in his reflexes and perception and they kept practically even throughout. 

They finished the first circuit and then the split came looming up, the underground route a pitch black abyss as they charged towards it. Lance wasn’t giving an inch and in seeing that, drove Keith to plow ahead just as hard despite the fact that there was no visibility. 

The cold hit him first. It was impossibly chilly compared to the other underground tracks that Keith had raced in; those had always been suffocatingly warm, the only reprieve being the wind that came with the fastest of speeds. 

With a hurried jerk, he realized they were on a steep, downward hill in the pitch black and he could hear Lance’s whoops of excitement echoing off of the walls. 

Dim lights flashed on, indicating the edges of the tracks, and it was only through many years of experience that Keith pulled his bike up and to the right just in time to avoid a sudden incline in the road. 

“Oh my gods, that’s cheating!” 

“Wall riding is not cheating!” 

Shifting his weight again, he shoved off the walls and rejoined Lance on the track. There was a sharp twist and all of a sudden, it was like the sea had enveloped them. 

The course, Keith realized, ran just outside of the island’s natural land mass and into the sea. They were traveling through a thick tube of concave fireglass underwater and when he tilted his bike at just the right angle, he could see a surface of ice above the murky sea. Figures darted back and forth outside, dancing in and out of sight, the hidden creatures of the deep. 

The tiny racecourse above ground was only the beginning of the circuit; the true test was the route around the island. Heat rushed through Keith, unbidden as comprehension dawned on him. It started in his toes, flaring upwards and through his body.

Keith leaned his weight forward, heart hammering in his throat as he practically flew through the tracks, fire singing in his veins. 

“Holy hell,” Lance gasped, dismounting from his bike and pulling his helmet off, hanging it haphazardly from the handles. Keith smirked. 

“I win.” 

“Only because you cheated,” Lance snorted, but he was smiling, short brown hair stuck up in all sorts of odd angles. His face was flushed, his eyes bright and vivacious with energy and Keith couldn’t stop smiling back. 

“This is a nice course,” Keith said. “I’m guessing the underwater bit was you?” 

Lance laughed, pleased. “Yes! Gold ingots for you, Hot Stuff. Well, it was mostly Hunk, he’s the engineer behind it all; I just helped with the lifting.” 

“Impressive. Him, not you.”

“What?!” Lance squawked, limbs flailing. “Did you not hear the part that I helped with the lifting? I literally had to lift metric tons of seawater away from the island’s coast to install this thing!”

“Your part with the building of the track was just minor,” Keith jabbed, unable to stop the smirk from spreading on his face. “Sounds like your friend Hunk did all the major work.”

Lance mock gasped, clutching at his chest like he had been wounded. “How dare you! I challenge you to a rematch; no cheating this time!”

Keith rolled his eyes and pulled his helmet back on, eager and raring to go. “Be prepared to lose again.”

They had raced through the tracks—twice—and by the time either of them remembered they had dinner plans, the sky had already turned dark and the snowfall became steadier and more concentrated. They hurriedly returned their bikes with Lance locking up as well as he could. 

“You broke the biolock,” Keith observed. “You know that the parts in there alone are worth thousands, right? Not to mention the cost of some of those bikes.” 

“I got this,” Lance said, freezing over the door with a block of ice. “See? No thief can get through that.” 

No one  _ reasonable _ would be able to get through the block of ice either, but Keith wisely kept his mouth shut, letting Lance lead the way off the racecourse and back to the castle. Lance had shrugged off the pelt from his shoulders, looking absolutely at home in the cold, whereas Keith could feel it biting at the tip of his ears and numbing his nose. He wished he’d brought his greatcoat. 

The streets were oddly sparse for such a big city at this time of night; light from windows streamed onto the streets, but aside from that, there were hardly any people walking outside. Perhaps it was due to the onset of winter. 

“This whole kingdom is different,” Lance said. “It’s not what it used to be.”

Somehow, Lance had noticed Keith’s ruminating and guessed—accurately—to his thoughts. 

Keith couldn’t fathom what Lance had witnessed and he had no words of comfort to give. He had never been good with being compassionate or sympathetic; it wasn’t that he didn’t care, but talking was not his strong suit, especially when it came to more delicate matters. All that came to mind was: “I’m sorry.” 

Lance halted and Keith nearly crashed into him. 

“Why are you sorry?” Lance asked. “It’s not like you were the one to invade last year. I blame that Zarkon bastard.”

Keith didn’t know what to say to that, to the uncharacteristic pain in Lance’s expression; in the short time that he’s known Lance, Keith was already certain that he was a happy man, not one to dwell on the sadness of life. He was a bit like water, ever flowing, but also deeper than the surface suggested. 

“We’ll be late for dinner,” Keith said, squeezing Lance’s shoulder, putting all his unvoiced concern into the action, hoping that it was enough to convey what couldn’t be said. Despite the fact that he had left it bare in the dead of winter, Lance’s shoulder was very warm.

Lance snorted and shook his head, dispelling the odd mood. “We’re already late,” he said, taking Keith’s hand from his shoulder and lacing their fingers together. He tugged Keith gently down the winding streets as a parent would to a child, afraid of them getting lost. 

When they finally stepped foot into the castle’s halls, Keith pulled his hand away, face feeling hot. Lance only gave him a brief glance, but otherwise didn’t question him. 

“Here goes,” said Lance and pushed open the door that led to the second floor of the grand hall.

Warm, yellow light bathed the room and floating trays of delicacies moved through the air, slow and with such gentle care that they almost seemed alive. The first person Keith’s eyes landed on was Princess Allura, who was standing next to Shiro, the two obviously in the midst of conversation. Shiro’s smile was polite, if a bit distant, and he was shaking his head. It seemed like he was declining an offer.

“You’re late!” 

It was the big man from the inn, Keith realized; he was coming up the steps and making a beeline straight for Lance. It wasn’t until the last step that he seemed to catch sight of Keith and he waved, smiling broadly and enthusiastically. 

“Keith, right?” 

Keith nodded. 

“I’m Hunk,” the big man introduced. 

It was like a spark went off in his head as he connected the dots; this was Hunk, the engineer behind the track. This was the person that Lance had sounded so proud of and the two were obviously comfortable with each other. Lance had snatched the last skewer off of Hunk’s plate, but instead of protesting, Hunk only sighed and put his empty plate down on a passing tray collecting used utensils and trash. 

“I’m amazed you brought him back in one piece,” Hunk said. “I don’t know how you put up with him all afternoon.” 

“Hey! I’ll have you know that I am very magnetic and charming,” Lance protested between bites of the skewer. He turned to Keith. “Right? Tell him.” 

“He took me to the racetrack. I heard you were the engineer behind it?” 

Hunk blinked, looking surprised, though his expression slowly melted into one of bashful pride. “Yes, I was,” he said. “It was part selfishness on my end, to redesign it. It was for my senior project as much as it was helping to rebuild the track. What…what did you think of it?” 

Keith was impressed and he said as much. Hunk smiled, cheeks going red, when the mustachioed man from the morning stomped over to the three of them, glaring daggers in Lance’s direction. 

“You!” He pointed an aggressive finger at Lance and despite not being the one who was addressed, Keith couldn’t help but feel affronted at the action. He wisely said nothing, but glared in silence. “Skipping out on your duties. You should know better! And what do you think you’re wearing to a dinner hosted by the Princess? Come with me! Sorry, lads, I’ll be borrowing this rascal for a moment!” The mustachioed man grabbed Lance by the ear, hauling him off while still muttering under his breath, Lance protesting the whole way. 

Hunk laughed, grabbing a new plate of skewers that was passing by and placing it into Keith’s empty hands. “Don’t look so worried,” he said. “Coran doesn’t mean any harm. I think. Come on, we should at least go say hi to Allura.”

Again, Keith was thrown off by how casual people were with the princess. As Hunk maneuvered them closer, Keith began to notice that the energy of the feast seemed to be less cheerful and rather, more fraught with tension instead. Shiro, still conversing with the princess, was like a statue of bedrock, his gloved hands fixed at his side. 

“Allura!” Hunk greeted, drawing both Shiro and the princess’s attention to him and effectively dissolving whatever unease that had settled between the two. Princess Allura visibly brightened at the sight of Hunk and greeted him with an enthusiastic hug. 

“Coran just found Lance,” Hunk said. “May he rest in peace.”

“Silly,” Princess Allura said, swatting Hunk on the arm, who made a sad, whimpering noise at the impact. “Coran is a gentle soul. He won’t hurt Lance...much. Besides, he brought it on himself.” Then, her attention turned to Keith. 

For some strange reason, he had thought she was much taller this morning. Now, she was the same height as him, give or take a few centimeters. “Keith, I presume?” she asked and there was a twinkle in her brilliant eyes, the hidden violets and pinks of her pupils shining brightly against the blue under the castle lights, easily making her the most ethereal person in the room. Keith almost shied away, but Shiro nudged him gently in the shoulder, a reminder to be polite. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Keith answered and barely missed the tick under her eye. 

She laughed and held out her hand, even though they shook hands this morning. He wondered if she remembered that at all as he took it. Her grip was like iron and heavier than a metal-cast alloy. It was practically bruising and Keith did his best to not squeak at the pressure. 

“Please, call me Allura,” she said, voice firm. “I do not think I am old enough to be addressed as ‘ma’am’ just quite yet.” Her smile was bright and terrifying. If she didn’t remember him before, Keith was certain that she would remember him now. 

“Allura,” he mumbled and she let go. From the corner of his eye, he could see Shiro trying to maintain a straight face to little success; the tremor of his lips gave it away.

She chatted with Hunk, the obvious friendliness between the two easing away the rest of the tension and Keith watched as Shiro became more relaxed, no longer standing at a stiff military attention stance. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Shiro gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll be alright,” he said. He seemed exhausted, somehow, but it had been an incredibly long journey to Altea. Even Keith was feeling the weariness in his body, though part of it might have been in response to winter. He hated winter.

Eventually, the small talk died down and the tension returned ten-fold. It didn’t help that Katie was ignoring her father in the corner or the fact that Shiro had trouble meeting the eyes of the Altean princess; Shiro was also apparently frustrated with Katie over something and Matt was desperately trying to play peacemaker between everyone. Even Allura seemed to dim in spirit. 

Keith wasn’t sure what he missed in the several hours he was away, but he suspected it may have been something big. 

“Why’s everyone looking so glum? I thought this was a party!” 

Lance had finally been allowed to rejoin them; he had changed out of the bodysuit and into a uniform. It was white, the royal Altean color, and tailored to fit his lanky body like a glove. At his side was the strange glowing weapon, hanging from a clasp on his belt. The pelt that he previously wore around his waist was secured onto his shoulders, draping over him like a massive cape. In his arms, he held another pelt that was a shimmering emerald green; it looked synthetic, almost, and smelled like something sharp and sweet simultaneously. 

Allura’s lips quirked upwards for just a brief moment, but then she sighed. “I suppose we should get to the heart of the matter,” she said and slowly ascended the stairs to the second floor of the grand hall. Lance accompanied her, murmuring words too low for Keith to hear. 

A heavy pressure exerted itself over Keith’s chest, squeezing as he watched Lance hold out a hand to help the princess up the rest of the steps. Lance looked so at ease, unable to hear the rapid beating of Keith’s heart as it tried to escape from his throat. His face burned seeing the crest of Altea embroidered on the sleeve of Lance’s uniform jacket and he violently seized a cup of water that was floating by. Shiro gave him a look.

Allura batted Lance’s helping hand away, making her own way up the steps before turning around. Katie pushed to the front of the steps, a determined look on her face and belatedly, Keith realized she was also wearing a similar uniform to the one Lance was wearing, minus the pelt and the weapon. 

Katie glanced briefly to Shiro, who shook his head, mouth set into an unhappy line.

“Come,” Allura said, gesturing to the rest of them.

Everyone followed her through the castle, past guards in shining blue liveries, and out to the courtyard that Lance had brought them to in the morning. Snow had collected heavily on it and Keith was reluctant to go any farther than the five steps that led out from beyond the overhang. No one else stepped into the snow either, all of them lingering on the top step. 

With a sweep of his arm, Lance cleared a small pathway that the princess strode out onto. 

The chilly air suddenly felt stagnant, the dark of night receding, but it wasn’t the environment that was changing; rather, it was Allura. She glowed blue, her eyes shining brighter than beacons in the dark as she raised her hands, somehow a cue for Katie to approach.

“Candidate,” she said, though her voice was not just her own. There was something deeper, older that overlaid it. “You are called today to heed the voice of the Lion; to become the Paladin of Green and to serve the Kingdom of Altea faithfully and loyally. Swear allegiance to the crown, fealty to the Kingdom, and fidelity to the cause of justice and peace. Candidate, do you swear all this and beyond?” 

Katie nodded. “I swear it,” she announced, loud and clear, conviction written in the set of her shoulders.

“I accept your word and you, Paladin.”

Lance stepped forward and draped the green pelt over Katie’s shoulder. It hung off of her petite stature like a blanket, the edges trailing on the ground and into the snow. 

“Your Lion and your bayard.” From thin air, Allura pulled a similar looking weapon to what Lance hung off his belt and handed it to Katie. This one glowed green, rather than the blue Lance had. “Welcome to the fold, Green Paladin.”

At those words, Katie’s body convulsed. Sam rushed forward, but Hunk held him back. 

“It’s okay,” Hunk said, though his expression was also one of worry. “It’s fine.”

They watched as Katie dropped to her knees, as the pelt wrapped around her, squeezing and twisting; her body warped, growing larger and larger, her spine elongating and her skull flattening until what was before them was not Katie, but a lion with deep emerald-colored fur. In the dull light of the winter’s sky, her fur was nearly black; her eyes were the only thing that still remained Katie—bright copper, shimmering with excitement. Keith did not know what kind of lion she was; he had never seen or heard of it before.

Next to her, Lance had also morphed. His hoarfrost lion was practically twice the size of Katie, but it didn’t stop her from pouncing on him the moment she saw him. All of a sudden, it was just two playful kits rolling about in the snow in the courtyard. 

Allura joined the rest of them under the overhang, the glow abating from her person. Sweat plastered on her forehead, stray strands of white hair sticking to her face. She smiled at them and slowly lowered herself to the ground, sitting down heavily. 

The mustachioed man from earlier quickly swaddled a thick blue blanket around her shoulders. 

“Thank you, Coran,” she murmured. She looked over to Sam, whose eyes were pinned to his daughter’s form, chasing Lance around almost clumsily on her new feet. Lance easily danced away from her outstretched paws.

Keith wondered why he hadn’t made the connection earlier. The heavy constricting feeling in his chest hadn’t faded through the ceremony; instead, it had been amplified a hundredfold, swallowing his heart and pressing the air from his lungs, squeezing until his ribs were aching. He should have known that Lance was the Blue Paladin. He should have known.

“I would be very proud of her,” said Allura. She too, was watching Katie and Lance play in the courtyard.

“I am,” said Sam fiercely. He looked proud too, but his eyes were wet with unshed tears. “My baby girl can do incredible things when she sets her mind to it. She’s stubborn and so, so smart.” He smiled, if a bit crooked. “I don’t want to bury her.”

Allura flinched. “She won’t—”

“Please do not make promises that can’t be kept, Princess,” said Sam, his voice harder than Keith had ever heard before. “You can’t guarantee Katie’s life, not when you’re going to war.”

Shiro was the first to leave and Keith went with him, the two of them ambling out into the cold. Shiro was silent, his back ramrod straight with military precision, as he marched slightly ahead of Keith, brows furrowed. 

“This whole time,” Shiro finally said halfway back to the inn, exhaling an explosive breath that came out as a puff of white mist. “They want me to become a Paladin.” 

Keith stared at the ground, at the fresh fallen snow that piled so calmly and coldly on top of everything. “Did you know before coming here?” Keith asked. 

Shiro scrubbed a hand over his face. “I didn’t know,” he confirmed. “I thought Katie wanted to mend fences when she asked for me to come, but this—this was not what I expected. She should have consulted with me first.”

Keith stared at the ground, his foot bumping against a half-dead winterweed stalk, not knowing what to say. 

Shiro sighed again, turning to Keith and subsequently changing the topic. “What about you? Where were you this afternoon? I knocked on your door, but you weren’t there.” 

An image of Lance sprung into Keith’s mind, of the other man’s warm shoulder and gangly limbs, and he quashed it immediately and viciously, cleansing the thought out of his brain like fire to a ceremonial sacrifice. Thinking about Lance brought to heel an unpleasant feeling that burned at the back of Keith’s throat, making him taste ash and smoke.

“Did something happen?” Shiro asked, his voice gentle and hesitant. 

Keith looked up to see that he had melted the snow around them in a wide, uneven circle. Water puddled under their boots and steam rose from Keith’s shoulders. 

“I went to the racetracks,” Keith said, his voice unpredictably clipped. He couldn’t stop the way the heat coursed through his veins, pumping something fierce and foreign through him. “It was...entertaining.”

“Alright,” Shiro said and he didn’t push for more information. 

They made it back into the Lioness Inn and bid each other goodnight, going into their own respective rooms with little fanfare. Without turning on the lights, Keith shed his clothes and crawled into the floating bed. It was soft, unlike the cot that Keith was used to sleeping on, and the blankets were warm, thick winter blankets designed to to insulate and inhibit the cold. He pulled them haphazardly over his body, considering briefly if there was some sort of sleep charm sewn into them, as his eyes began to droop and his head started to feel fuzzy. Maybe he was more tired than he thought. The day had been long and eventful.

His eyes couldn’t have been closed for longer than a few seconds when he heard the knocking on his door. Blearily, he pushed onto his elbows and noted that the snow outside the window ledge seemed to have piled higher than he remembered it being. A chill cut through the air, seeping into the darkness of the room. Keith shuddered and pulled the blanket with him.

The knock came again, louder and more insistent.

Keith swung open the door and came face to face with Lance. He was still wearing the white uniform with the pelt over his shoulders, but he was looking frazzled, his hair sticking up at odd angles, snowdrops clinging to random strands. 

“Hey—”

Keith slammed the door shut in Lance’s face.

“Keith!” Lance yelped. “Come on, don’t make me break in there. Keith!”

He banged with his fist until Keith couldn’t take the noise anymore and he flung the door open, grabbing Lance by the front of his uniform and throwing him bodily into the room. He slammed the door shut again and hoped to whatever gods were listening that Shiro next door was fast asleep. 

“What?” Keith hissed as Lance extricated himself from the floor.

“Why are you so mad?” Lance asked, rising to his feet. In the dark, Keith could barely make out Lance’s features and he wondered if Lance could see his face. Likely not. 

“You didn’t tell me who you were,” Keith snapped. “Why was that? And what were you thinking, trying to recruit Shiro? He’s been through enough. Leave him alone.”

“Just so we’re clear, I’m not the one that recommended Shiro as a candidate; that was all Pidge’s idea. I wanted to choose someone else as a candidate. And secondly, I thought you knew who I was!” Lance gesticulated wildly. “It’s not exactly a secret! I can’t help it if you’re just thick!” 

Keith considered incinerating Lance on the spot; he’d never tried burning someone before, let alone burn someone alive. 

“Look, it wasn’t my intention to keep it from you,” Lance said. “I seriously thought you knew; lions are the sacred gods of Altea and who else in the world parades around with these?” Lance gestured to the pelt and the bayard. “No one!”

True, Keith thought, though he didn’t say it out loud. 

“Why are you here?” he asked instead and if his words came out bitter and sullen, he chose not to acknowledge it. 

Lance was silent for a beat, his arms hung loose by his side. His voice was small, almost quiet when he spoke: “You left.”

The temperature in the room had plunged further, ice cold; frost clung to the inside of the window, sneaking up the walls and onto the lion figureheads that decorated the corners. Both their breaths misted in the air and when Keith moved to turn on the hearth, his bare feet felt as if they were pierced by a thousand frozen needles. He exhaled a breath of fire, spinning it around him in a ribbon, before dissipating it. 

“So you’ve come here to freeze me to death?” 

The machina-powered hearth sprung to life, fake embers dancing, casting a low, golden light around the room. Lance’s head snapped up as he looked around. 

“I’m not doing it on purpose,” he said through gritted teeth, scrunching his eyes closed. For a moment, it seemed the frost would recede, but Lance made a grabbing motion and the ice flew towards him in a line, all glinting sharp edges like knife points. He gathered it up, crushing it into the shape of a ball and hurried it into the bathroom, depositing everything in the shower, trailing bits of ice and water behind him.

Keith kept his arms crossed over his chest as Lance came back into the room. “What are you doing here?” he asked again. He didn’t miss the way Lance’s steps stuttered, or the way that his eyes flew about to every corner of the room, looking at everything except Keith.

“I don’t know,” Lance finally admitted, his shoulders sagging. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

Keith sighed, counted to three in his head, and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “It’s late,” he said, slow. “And don’t you have a graduation to attend tomorrow? You’ll need to rest up for that.”

A small smile breached Lance’s lips. “My family is coming tomorrow,” he said. “My parents, my brothers, my sisters. My aunts and uncles. I haven’t seen them in a while. Did you know my mom’s the best Water Pledge around?” The sudden turn of topic and the tenderness in Lance’s voice took Keith by surprise. “I got all this from her.” Though Lance was looking at his palms, his eyes were far away, seeing something Keith wasn’t privy to.

The imitation fire from the hearth crackled, but with no real heat or danger behind it; the low hum of machina sounded in the background, an ode to the deathly stillness found only in winter. The two of them stood in the resulting silence, Lance lost in thought, and Keith beginning to see something new about Lance. The tenseness from before ebbed away like a receding tide, and Keith found himself loose and sleepy. He wondered if the ice ball in the bathroom would melt by morning.

“You’ll see them tomorrow,” said Keith, breaking the silence.

“I will,” Lance whispered something fierce, a promise. He blinked and he was back in Keith’s room, his smile becoming sharper and broader. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

Keith fought down the blush that was threatening to overtake his face and he thanked the gods for small favors that the room was still mostly dark. “Depends,” he said, intending it to sound gruff, but it missed the mark entirely as Lance accepted it as a positive response.

Lance was still smiling as he strode over to the door, opening it. A sliver of hallway light came spilling into the room, haloing Lance from the side. He really did look good in his tailored uniform. 

“Good night,” said Lance. He paused for a moment, almost as if he was going to say something else, but Keith beat him to the punch. 

“Good night,” Keith replied. “Now get out.”

Graduation was the same everywhere; families and friends gathered, celebrations were to be had, and tears were shed. It was like this when Shiro graduated and Keith was in the audience, waiting through hundreds of names to watch Shiro walk across a stage. 

He was sitting with Sam, Matt, and Shiro in the amphitheater and he was unashamedly blasting away the cold with his heat, a ball of fire floating in front of him. Snow didn’t touch him, neither did ice, but gentle peals of water rained down on him, evaporating easily after several moments. Shiro had wordlessly scooted a bit closer to him on the bench, wanting to get out of the cold. Keith couldn’t decide whether to indulge him or not, but ultimately let him in on some of the heat, pushing the fire in between the two of them.

In the sea of students, Keith could make out Katie, Lance, and Hunk all huddled together, waiting for their names to be called. Lance and Katie wore the white Paladin uniform instead of the school’s, standing out in the swathe of blue and grey, and Katie had numerous shining sashes draped over her small shoulders. Neither wore their pelts. 

“Katie!” Matt yelled, waving wildly. 

Somehow, Katie caught sight of her brother and waved back, just as enthusiastic.

Up on the stage, Princess Allura was giving the commencement address that was simultaneously broadcasting on three large paneled screens overhead, and despite the rowdy crowd, she remained unperturbed. Keith was hardly paying attention, already bored out of his mind. He was here because Shiro insisted and partly because he was curious about Lance and his family. 

They were easy to identify; they were the loudest and possibly the largest group out of everyone in the amphitheater. They also carried handmade posters with them, declaring in bold, blue lettering: CONGRATULATIONS LANCE. Even the younger ones waved little flags containing an inaccurately handsome caricature of Lance’s face on them. Despite the slew of embarrassing paraphernalia, Lance had blown them all kisses, sending sprinkles of glittering ice in their directions, and received ecstatic hoots and hollers in return. 

It must be nice to be so loved, Keith mused. On the large panels overhead, Allura’s eye twitched. 

“I wish you all very full lives,” said Allura, concluding her speech. “Thank you very much.”

The crowd applauded and cheered. Next to Keith, Shiro clapped his hands politely. 

Music blared from some ancient speakers and an older fellow that was introduced as the dean of the university took the stage, his uniform colored a deep blue. He made a short speech and began reading names, though Keith only partly paid attention, too busy shrinking and expanding the ball of fire he was commanding.

“Don’t accidentally burn anyone,” Shiro warned. 

“I’m careful,” Keith replied, splitting the flame into two before mashing them back together in a small shower of embers.

Up on the stage, students crossed in a slow, ordered line to the beat of the song, a strangely uplifting piece that filled even Keith with hope. Enhanced, no doubt, by the magic of a songstress. 

“I heard you last night,” said Shiro. 

At first, Keith didn’t understand what it was that Shiro was referring to, but then the image of Lance being framed in golden light by the door surfaced into his mind. The ball of fire he was playing with fizzled out with a hiss. 

“What,” Keith managed to force out of his uncooperating mouth, “do you mean?”

There was a small smile on Shiro’s face when he turned to look at Keith. “You’re making friends. Connections.” His voice was warm, almost proud.

Keith stared down at the tip of his boots and ignored Shiro’s gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Shiro chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. Keith shrugged him off, but that only seemed to make Shiro more amused.

“What about you? Are you going to accept?” Keith asked. 

For a brief moment, Shiro was silent and contemplative and from the corner of his eye, Keith followed the line of Shiro’s vision to Princess Allura. She was offering handshakes to the graduates, a picture of grace and courtesy, but from the looks of some of the people descending the stage, her iron grip was going to be the talk of the city. 

“I’ll have to think about it,” Shiro answered with a sigh. 

Keith huffed a breath of laughter; he had half-expected the answer with Shiro. “You should just say yes. You’ve never been able to turn down someone asking for help.”

Shiro placed a gloved hand onto Keith’s knee and squeezed before pulling back. “It’s a big decision,” he said, “I have the Garrison to think about.”

“I’m pretty sure you can just ask the Princess to buy out your contract, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Keith—” 

“Shiro.”

He held Shiro’s gaze, unwilling to back down. Whether Shiro knew it or not, he was meant for something more than being a cog in a wheel at the Garrison. Keith had known it from the day they met, just like how he knew they would inevitably go their separate ways. The only constant Keith ever had in his life had been Shiro, but Keith was not the foundation of Shiro’s life. 

It was Shiro’s turn to look away first. He sighed, again, and was about to speak when Matt, on the other side of Shiro, shouted in excitement. 

“Katie!” Matt was waving ecstatically, practically jumping out of his seat. 

On the stage, Katie was receiving her diploma. She was grinning, eyes shining bright under the lights, and spotting Matt, she did a complicated wave with both her hands, which Matt mirrored back immediately. She laughed, shook hands with Allura, and stepped off the stage. 

Keith clapped politely, albeit unenthusiastically. He wasn’t sure what to make of her, not yet. 

Katie ran through the crowd, hopping up the steps to get to them, the sashes around her shoulders streaming behind her in a trail of color. She tackled her father, smile splitting her face all the while. Sam was beaming at her, joyful and fond, squeezing her tight before letting her go.

“Congratulations,” said Shiro. 

Katie launched herself across the row, nearly kneeing Matt in an unfortunate place in an effort to draw him into a clutching, desperate hug. 

“Thank you,” Keith heard her whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Shiro whispered back, embracing her for all he was worth. 

Keith looked away, but the moment he did, Katie had escaped from Shiro’s grasp to somehow situate herself in the tiny space between Keith and the seat before him, her bony elbows resting on top of his knees. He blinked at her and she blinked back. The situation was almost laughable, if it didn’t make Keith want to push her off his legs and take off. 

“You’re Keith,” she said. 

“Manners,” Sam called out, but Katie ignored him. 

“Er, hi,” Keith said, more aware of his posture and position of his hands than ever. “Congratulations?”

She stuck a hand out under his nose, nearly gouging out his eyes with the offered handshake. “I didn’t get to say this yesterday, but thank you for getting my family here safely. It means a lot to me,” she looked over briefly at Shiro. “Thanks. Both of you.”

“You’re welcome,” Shiro said, taking pity on Keith by grabbing the hand she had stuck out and maneuvering her out of Keith’s space and onto the bench. Katie didn’t bat an eye at being manhandled out of the way, her attention glued on Keith with a suspicious curiosity. 

“Lance won’t stop talking about you, you know,” she said, squinting up at him. “I had to listen to him go on and on about you.”

He didn’t know what to say to that and scooted a little farther away without being too obvious, but Katie had sharper eyes than he credited her for. He could see the scales in her head tilting as she weighed his worth, her gaze turning down from his face to his clothes, his boots. Her nose wrinkled at the melted slush on the ground, but otherwise, she made no comment. 

“We’re going to go to dinner later; you better be there,” she said.

“I—” Keith paused at the look she leveled him. “I will.”

She smiled. “Good,” she said. Before the conversation could go any further, they were distracted by a deafening roar from the crowd. It was Lance’s family, all standing on their feet and waving their paraphernalia about in a frenzy as Lance sauntered onto the stage, taking exaggerated bows as he went. He didn’t even look at the diploma that was handed to him, too busy miming something to the delight of his family; he twisted, turning three hundred and sixty degrees, and deposited winterweed flowers crafted of ice in their grasps. 

His family went wild. 

Keith wrapped his fingers around the stem that appeared in front of him, feeling the heat rise uncomfortably in his cheeks as people turned to stare at him. He wanted to chuck the thing across the amphitheater and straight into Lance’s head, but his fingers couldn’t fathom breaking something so delicate. A looping message was scrawled onto the leaves, the spidery veins declaring: I’LL SEE YOU TONIGHT.

“He really likes to show off,” Katie said with a roll of her eyes.

A loud rap came at the door as Keith was packing for the return trip; he had bought fresh provisions earlier in the day and a new weathering charm that he wasn’t entirely sure was going to work. He was at a loss with the flower of ice—it hadn’t yet melted and he had the suspicion that it would never, but he couldn’t think of a way to transport it without breaking it. 

Keith opened the door and just as he expected, it was Lance, lounging against the doorframe in a pose that was anything but casual. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, tempted to shut the door in Lance’s face. 

Lance grinned down at him. “Here to—” He paused, his grin frozen. “What are  _ you _ doing?” 

“Packing,” Keith said, kneeling down onto the carpeted floor and returning his attentions to his rucksack. Lance followed him in, shutting the door with a soft click. 

“You’re leaving?” Lance asked. He sounded shocked and didn’t walk further into the room.

Keith frowned as he pulled out his last pair of clean socks, setting them aside for tomorrow. They were thick and warm, made specifically to keep frostbite away from his toes. 

“I was hired as a protective guard. And now, my clients are leaving and I am leaving with them,” Keith said, explaining as clearly as he could. “I was never here to stay to start with.”

Silence blanketed the room and Keith glanced over to Lance, who had his back to the door. He was still wearing his white uniform, but there was now streaks of mud along the hem of his pants and colorful splatters of powder along his thighs and torso. There was no mistake that he had been out celebrating his graduation. 

“When are you going?” Lance asked through gritted teeth. “What—what time?”

“I thought you knew. You’re the one that brought us here; aren’t you the one to take us back?” 

Lance shook his head. “I’m not the only Water Pledged in this city,” he said. “How do you think all the travelers got in? I went out to get you guys as a favor to Pidge.” 

Keith wasn’t sure what to say in response. Instead, he turned to the flower that Lance had gifted him and said: “I don’t know how to pack this without breaking it.” 

To his surprise, Lance chuckled, though Keith didn’t see anything particularly funny about the situation. “Give it here,” he said, stretching out a hand, but Keith didn’t budge. He glared at Lance’s hand. 

“I won’t destroy it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Lance said, crouching down to be eye-level with Keith. “I didn’t know you’d care so much about a piece of weed.” 

Keith felt a flush bloom across his face and a sharp remark was on the tip of his tongue when he caught sight of Lance’s gentle expression, made softer by the light of the machina-powered hearth. He handed over the flower with no other comment and watched as Lance cupped his hands over it and then slammed them down. 

“Don’t—”

The winterweed was suspended peacefully from within a barrier formed of transparent ice. The barrier looked sturdy, if a bit slick, but when Lance gave it back, Keith knew that it would keep. 

“Thank you,” Keith murmured, wrapping one of his shirts around it before depositing it into his rucksack. 

“You’re welcome,” said Lance. “The winterweed won’t melt; I made sure of that. The case is just a stopgap and isn’t nevermelt ice, but it should last a good while before it goes away completely.” 

It was Keith’s turn to chuckle. “Do you know what the winterweed is?” he asked. 

Lance shrugged. “The flower’s pretty,” he replied. 

“Winterweed is the only plant to grow on the surface and it thrives in the middle of winter. It’s stubborn and spreads quickly and its only purposeful use is for a mild antiseptic, but only when it’s combined with the correct ingredients. The flower is aesthetically pleasing, but it only blooms once before dying.”

“What are you trying to say?” Lance was frowning now, his eyebrows drawn and nose scrunched as he stared at Keith’s rucksack. 

“You’re like a weed,” Keith concluded. “I’d like to remember this trip.”

Lance shoved at Keith’s shoulder ineffectively. “Can’t remember things without a souvenir?”

Keith thought for a long moment, grasping at half-forgotten memories, fogged and hazy from disuse. He thought of high walls and revving engines, of a racecourse that bordered at the edge of the deadlands. 

“I remember you,” Keith said slowly. “From the race. I came in second that day because someone made a mess on the course by colliding with a wall, causing a massive roadblock.”

A blush spread across the bridge of Lance’s nose, slowly traveling down his cheeks. “Well,” he said, voice going scratchy and high pitched. “I guess your mind isn’t as feeble as I thought it was.”

The morning came faster than Keith anticipated. Katie appeared after breakfast to see her family off and with her, came Hunk and Lance.

Lance had changed back into the outfit that Keith first saw him in: the tight black bodysuit that left little to the imagination with the giant fur pelt cinched around his waist by a ridiculous belt of trinkets. He looked tired. Looking at him made Keith’s chest clench. 

“Lance will take you back,” said Katie. “He volunteered.” 

“That’s very kind of you,” Shiro said. He patted Lance on the bare shoulder and Lance lifted his head to return Shiro’s gratitude with a beam. 

“I am definitely kind,” Lance stated to everyone’s chagrin. Keith rolled his eyes, but felt the small tug of a smile on his lips. 

Katie hugged Matt and Sam again, sniffling quietly all the while. She was trying to be strong, Keith could recognize, and he admired her bravery. She was so young. 

Lance morphed into the hoarfrost lion, laying down on his belly and patiently waiting for everyone to situate themselves on his back. It was nearly a mirror of the first day, except now, Keith knew better and didn’t hesitate to wrap and tug tightly on Lance’s fur. In this form, Lance barely noticed. They might as well have been fleas. 

“Come visit again soon!” Katie called out, waving. Next to her, Hunk also waved. 

The trip out of Altea was smoother than the one in and shorter too—at least, it felt that way for Keith. One moment he had his face pressed into Lance’s warm fur and the next, Lance was waiting for them to get off. 

“I will never get used to that,” Matt said, sliding uselessly to the ground. 

They were at an abandoned spot not too far from the small port town that sat across from Altea; if Keith squinted, he could make out the forms of curious citizens gawking at Lance in the distance. Snow was already falling in steady cadences from the sky, turning the world into a white nothingness. 

“Thank you,” Keith said, looking up into Lance’s deep blue eyes. He reached up to brush a palm against Lance’s muzzle when his whole form shuddered and twisted, shrinking until he became a man again and Keith had his hand pressed against Lance’s cheek. 

They stood there, suspended in the snowfall, and Keith almost withdrew his hand when a familiar chill ran like fingers down his spine. He laughed at the sensation and closed his eyes, focusing desperately on the feel of Lance’s skin against his fingertips, sparking just enough heat to bring pleasure to the touch, and sent it winding through Lance’s body. It was a difficult trick, but feeling Lance’s shiver was worth it.

And then Lance was on him, mouth to mouth; his hands dug almost painfully into Keith’s shoulders, but Keith had one hand grabbing into Lance’s arm and the other slid into his hair. Lance kissed like he was a man drowning, Keith being his only salvation. 

It was wonderful and painful, a hello and goodbye all in one. Keith pressed his mouth to Lance’s lips in a chaste kiss one last time before pulling away, his heart and lungs feeling like they would burst. 

“Take good care of it,” said Lance. “You won’t get another one.” 

Keith smiled and shifted the rucksack on his back. From the corner of his eye, he could see Shiro grinning like a loon, his arms folded over his chest. Keith couldn’t bring himself to turn around and he couldn’t stop the words from spilling from his mouth, like a cup overfull: “I won’t need another one.”

Overhead, the snow continued to fall in torrents of white.

###  **End** **  
**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my two betas and rubber ducks that endured my continual whinging and moaning for the better part of a month. KaisaSolstys and citsiurtlanu: I could not have done this without you guys! Thank you!


End file.
